


My Boy

by im_fairly_witty



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: Coco Locos Fluff Off 2018, Gen, No shipping, strictly platonic and familial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 00:52:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16843855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/im_fairly_witty/pseuds/im_fairly_witty
Summary: Notes: Ernesto didn’t expect his party to be crashed by a twelve-year-old. He didn’t expect said twelve-year-old to be alive, or that he’d have to fish him out of his pool either. But what he least expected was the boy’s stunning claim...and then he finds himself wondering, (hoping?) that it just might be true.Canon compliant.Prompt: “You don’t need to leave so soon.”





	My Boy

“I’m Miguel. Your great-great-grandson.”

No.

Ernesto stared as the young boy pushed himself up, sopping face paint running down his cheeks. Claiming something that made him feel as if his head were still at the bottom of the pool. 

“I...have a great-great-grandson?” Ernesto asked mechanically, his mind spinning as pool water dripped off his heavily embroidered charro suit to puddle the tile he still knelt on. 

Because he didn’t have a great great grandson. He didn’t have  _ family _ at all.

“I need your blessing. So I can go back home and be a musician, just like you!” the boy said, looking nearly sheepish, but then a small flame of eagerness flickering into a small smile.

_ Get out of my house. _

The voice rang through Ernesto’s head, like an unwelcome, long-dead acquaintance clawing its way back up through his most deeply buried memories.

_ No son of mine will be a musician, no real man would waste his time making that trash you call “music.” _

“The rest of our family, they wouldn’t listen.” the living boy said, watching him hesitantly. His obvious hope was nearly smothered under an all-too-familiar look of fear, looking as if he was already expecting his request to be rejected, “But I... I hoped you would?”

No. This was a mistake. Ernesto didn’t have family and he hadn’t for decades. He’d never even tried to find another one, not after finding that the world gave him all the attention and love he needed. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had falsely claimed to be a celebrity’s descendant, and the best thing for Ernesto to do would be to throw him out. 

But...even if the boy’s story was false, his hope was real. He’d somehow made it to the Land of the Dead, evaded police, broken into the most exclusive party in the entire afterlife, and actually  _ crashed _ the party in the most dramatic way possible. And why? To get his attention, to apparently follow a dream to create music. To defy his family in order to do so.

Ernesto of all people knew exactly what that fearful love of music looked like, the desire to push past all expectations and rules, to do  _ whatever _ it took to reach out and grab his dreams.

This boy really  _ was _ like him...what if...somehow...

_ No _ .

“My boy,” Ernesto said, pushing himself to his feet with a smile, “with a talent like yours, how could I  _ not _ listen?” 

Ernesto  _ didn’t  _ have family, that was his one rule. Family only brought disappointment and betrayal. But this boy, who _ wasn’t  _ his family, still had the exact same spark he’d had, clearly had talent, and clearly need help. There was no way that Ernesto could kill that hope.

He was caught off-guard as the boy threw himself at him, stumbling back a step as he was pulled into a hug. And not the superficial or glancing hug of a fan or an acquaintance either, it was far more steady with more warmth than that. It reminded him distantly of someone else...someone from another life that he’d let become his family...

It had been a very long time since he’d had a hug like that, a hug that felt like it  _ meant _ something.

He felt an involuntary smile tug at his mouth and he scooped up the boy, hefting him up onto his shoulders as the crowd cheered and clapped, letting himself ride the energy of the moment and of the room.

“I have a great-great-grandson!” Ernesto announced to the room, spreading his arms wide as he turned for everyone to see them both. Give the boy a little bit of credibility, a little taste of the glory he wanted so badly.

Goodness knows it’s what he’d do if he  _ actually _ had a descendant, but there was no way that...

Well, there was  _ one _ way that it might be true. Back before he’d gotten careful, before he’d learned to reign in his ego when it came to certain feminine challenges to his masculinity. It had only happened once...but hadn’t his old lawyer hinted in the early years of his career that she’d tried to make paternal claims against him in court? He hadn't cared to get involved, overwhelmed at the idea of  _ that _ kind of consequence, letting his lackeys handle it instead. 

But _ what if _ ...

He blinked as the boy rested his chin on the top of his head, wrapping his arms around his neck in another warm, though still dripping, hug. Ernesto reached up to pat the boy’s knee fondly, Miguel, that’s what he’d said his name was. Miguel, De la Cruz? But no, even if he were his descendant there was no way the mother would have been allowed to keep his name. 

And besides Miguel wasn’t his family. 

_ But what if he was? _

“Let’s both get dried off,” Ernesto said, keeping Miguel up on his shoulders as he walked through the crowd, his guests eagerly parting to let them through, all their attention fixed on him and Miguel, the living boy. His  _ grandson. _ “But tell me, how did you know we were related?”

“My great-great-grandmother still...well, she hates you after you left.” Miguel said, sounding hesitant, like he still expected Ernesto to become angry with him, “My family never ever talks about you, not even your name, they won’t even let me play music because they hate you so much. But I’ve always loved your music! I’ve watched all your movies a million times, I taught myself how to play guitar by watching you, and I can’t believe that I finally get to meet you! I feel like I’m dreaming!”

Ernesto chuckled, reaching up to carefully swing Miguel down to walk beside him as they left the ballroom. He couldn’t ignore the warm glow he felt inside at the boy’s words, not to mention the eager and adoring way Miguel looked up at him as he eagerly followed along. 

An abandoned grandmother? A name that wasn’t passed down? A young dreamer who had gained his musical talent from only watching  _ his _ films in secret despite his family, and who had a positively delightful flair for the dramatic? 

Ernesto found himself searching the boy’s face, looking for features he would recognize from his own boyhood, even long forgotten family members. The warm feeling in his chest flickered into something stronger, a curiosity, an _ excitement _ .

Because impossibly,  _ incredibly _ , Miguel’s story actually matched the only possible way that this could be, that Ernesto could actually really truly have a real descendant. Someone who was his own flesh and blood, someone who had inherited his love of music, his daring spirit, his willingness to seize his moment.

Ernesto had never admitted to himself before the desire to have family again, had flatly denied it for a whole century, but suddenly having it gifted to him with no warning had him feeling things he hadn’t felt in decades. Fondness. Protectiveness. Excitement at sharing something so central to his very soul. 

“And I’m really sorry about crashing your party,” Miguel continued, looking up at him sheepishly as they walked through a guarded door to a quiet hallway, “but all I need is your blessing, if I have that I’ll go back home and be a musician, and you can go back to your party.” 

Ernesto stopped walking, looked down at him with a smile and putting his hand on Miguel’s shoulder, “My boy, you don’t need to leave so soon, you’re my  _ grandson _ .” he smiled wider, the words sending a real thrill through him, “And you’ve only just arrived! We’re going to both get dried off, and then we’re going to have the most exciting, most  _ musical _ night of your life, alright? All the greatest Mexican musicians in history are here tonight, all the best music, the best food, the best entertainment. You’ve come all this way to find me, to let me know you even exist. The very least I can do is show you a good time.” Ernesto paused, looking back to Miguel, ‘That is, if you’d like to?”

The boy’s eyes shone with eagerness, looking like he was nearly ready to grito in excitement. “You, you really mean it?”

“Of course I mean it!” Ernesto grinned, getting down on one knee to match his height and brushing Miguel’s wet hair out of his eyes, “We are going to have the greatest evening together that any grandfather and grandson have ever had before. By sunrise everyone who’s anyone will know your name, that you’re going to be Mexico’s greatest musician when you go back home, just like your great-great-grandfather before you.”

Miguel’s smile suddenly became watery and his eyes glistened with what looked a whole lot like tears. This time Ernesto was prepared for the hug and returned it gladly, the excitement and eagerness he’d been trying to keep under a safe level of skepticism breaking through anyway. 

“I have so much to show you, Miguel.” Ernesto said, pulling out of the hug and getting to his feet again, smiling at the escaped overwhelmed tear that Miguel quickly wiped away with the damp sleeve of his hoodie, “I have so much to share with you. I’m so glad you found me.”

“I’m glad too.” Miguel said, “Thank you so much, for, for everything.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” Ernesto chuckled, leading the way again, already mentally pulling together a list of all the people he would introduce Miguel to, all the activities they would do together, all the songs they would sing. This was  _ his _ grandson and he was going to be treated to all the best things Ernesto could offer, the warm feeling he already had inside was more than worth the effort, “Our night together has only just  _ begun _ .”


End file.
